ordinary day
by apartheid
Summary: You don't know whether you love her or you hate her. (For DesaraSoleli). {Used to be titled: Two Sides}.


**Two Sides**

"i have a choice, but i don't know what to feel."

/

The girl sitting in the grass beside Dobby's grave would make a nice portrait and he knows that. She still has bruises everywhere, but to him she's pretty. Why there is an urge to paint her, he hasn't the slightest idea. Could it be her ever-present smile worn when sharing stories of a loving father? Does she ever realize how infuriating she might be? He cannot comprehend a single idea that leaves her lips sometimes, which brings him to insanity. He has never encountered anyone else similar to Luna Lovegood, although occasionally he loves that about her. And suddenly she's an abstract painting—one that he can't even begin to describe.

...

"Want to search for Heliopaths with me?" Luna whirls to face Dean Thomas; he doesn't look at her. Never has, not directly anyways. "They feed on wood, you know. They should be easy to find."

"That's cool," lies Dean, still avoiding the gaze of her gray eyes.

"Maybe we'll have better luck, plus I haven't looked alone before."

Only because he wishes for something new to do, he says, "Okay."

They, the pale blond girl and the dark brown-haired boy, set off. Soon there is just forest ahead of them. A canopy of trees surrounds them as rocks lay scattered on the dirt floor. Luna is walking through, mumbling to herself about fanatical creatures. Dean travels behind, longing for the paintbrush or sketchbook he doesn't have. He bumps into a tree some hours into their hunt; he was too busy smirking at Luna's wrackspurt antics. There's a faint sound of a giggle a little way beyond him: Luna. Running easily, Dean catches up to her, except when he does, she's beside herself with chuckles.

He would have no difficulty relaying she's nuts for laughing too much since he is obviously unaware of the hilarity. After a whole five minutes, Luna's laughter finally subsides, allowing her to converse with Dean once more. She won't break their thin silence, so neither will he. He makes a move to sit down. She follows immediately.

...

_Now is the perfect time to speak_, supposes Dean.

_I think I'm falling for him_, wonders Luna.

_Please say something.._

_Even if he despises listening? It makes me hate him._

_Do I like hearing her talk? No, I pretend to be interested!_

_I hate that. He refuses to look at me, too. It's terrible of him._

_Your craziness grows on me. It makes me happy. _

_Articulate your words now… all right!_

…

"You'd make a good athlete, Dean," says Luna.

He swivels his head to look her straight-on. Dean Thomas is, for once, listening because he feels the desire to, not because he feels an obligation. The prompt he states comes consequently then. "Think so?"

"Yes, I do, actually," she expresses this nervously, smiling.

"Well, I take pleasure in American Football, as well as Quidditch. I filled the role of Chaser for my House, once, remember?"  
"Football sounds nice, what is it?" It doesn't hassle him that she ignored the second half of his inquiry.

Thus, Dean commences a discussion, detailing everything from players to scoring, to ultimately victories. All the while, Luna Lovegood asks her weird questions, admiring the way men are able to tackle like giants with at least twenty pounds worth of gear and manage to injure themselves. She swears she sees a smile spread across his face when she does.

Somewhere along the way, Luna forgets to rummage around for Heliopaths. Dean never bothers to remind her.

...

He's staring at her backside while he's on his stomach. Her bruises are a more subdued than before. The crave to paint her resurfaces, yet he is incapable of figuring out why. Maybe it's way the red, green as well as purple sparks whip the way around her after erupting from her brand new wand. Does she realize how intoxicating she is to him? Is it possible that he adores the way she coordinates her fingers in order to tie together violet flowers for the house-elf's grave? He isn't able to understand everything Luna does, however, he's learning. It dawns on him, all of it. He loves her because she unique and exquisite. And suddenly, he wants to paint her more than ever.

"Luna?"

She rolls over groggily, without a word.

"You're gorgeous."

"Thanks." Luna turns back over.

Dean isn't lying this time.

…

**Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction. It's dedicated to DesaraSoleli, who's wanted to read this for a long time. Hope you're fond of it!**

**Word Count: 744**


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